Down to the Wire (11 page)

At this point there really wasn’t much I could do but wait for Chapling to run the encrypted message through the De Nuowsi’t theorem. So I logged onto e-mail and smiled when I saw David’s name. I clicked on the message:

“Hi. Just wanted to make sure you made it safe and sound. How’d your flight go? Miss you. D.”

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure TL and Wirenut weren’t watching and typed back:

“Hi! Flight went good. I did exactly what you said. I thought of you. It worked. I miss you, too. A lot. GiGi.”

I read what I’d typed, deleted the “A lot,” and hit send. “A lot” seemed too much.

HERE YOU GO. Chapling IMed me and sent the decoded encryption.

“I got it,” I told TL. “Chapling’s sending it right now.”

TL and Wirenut leaned in to look at the laptop.

RISSALA MUSEUM OF HISTORY. KING’S CROWN.

USE ELEMENTS TO RETRIEVE DATA.

“Elements?” I asked.

TL rubbed his chin, thinking. “Chemicals. It’s telling us we’ll have to chemically treat the crown to retrieve the encrypted data.” He touched my shoulder. “Give me everything you can on that crown. I’ll get Beaker busy on chemical analysis.”

TL had an early-morning
meeting with a local agent. He sent Wirenut and me to check out the Rissala Museum of History.

So here we sat on the hilltop above the capital city, watching the early sun peek out over the Mediterranean Sea. It was the most beautiful clear blue water I’d ever seen. From our high vantage point I scanned the canals, idly watching the boats sway in the gentle breeze. Below us the city crammed the cliffs. Our hotel was smooshed in there somewhere. It’d been quite a climb getting up here.

Beside me, Wirenut zipped up his windbreaker halfway. “A little chillier this morning than yesterday. In an hour it’ll be just as warm. No rain expected.”

“You sound like Nancy.”

He laughed at that and pointed in the distance to the boats that lined the canals. “You suppose that’s where Katarina lives?”

“What are you doing thinking about her?”

Playfully, he shoved my head. “Nothing. Shut up. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I shoved him back. “Oooh, Wirenut’s got a crush on a girl.”

He rolled his eyes and made a face.

Laughing, I shaded my face from the brightening sun and squinted down the hill at a one-room, pastel green stone building. The Museum of History.

I took a swig of the now-cold coffee I’d gotten from the hotel.

Beside me Wirenut popped a chocolate-covered espresso bean in his mouth. “I’ve crossed the tired zone into punchy exhaustion.”

I eyed his espresso beans. “Where’d you get those?”

“I brought them with me.” He held out his hand. “Want some?”

“Sure.” I grabbed a handful.

Wirenut popped another espresso bean. “Maybe I should just hook up to a caffeine IV.”

I smiled a little. “Chapling’s rubbing off on you.”

Wirenut slipped the paper cup from my hand and sipped. “Uck. Cold.”

I checked my watch. 7:30 A.M. “You got everything you need?” We’d been here on the hilltop above the city since predawn getting the layout for tonight’s break-in into the Museum of History.

Wirenut nodded. “Let’s hit that café again. I’m starving.”

We pushed up from the ground and made our way down the winding dirt road. Tiny white stone cottages dotted the hillside. The buildings’ doors signified the only colors. Bright blues and reds.

Other than the little houses, the museum, and a cemetery, nothing existed on the hillside.

A movement off to the left drew my attention. I looked and saw…
Katarina?
Wirenut must have seen her, too, because he stopped walking.

“Let’s go say hi.” He crossed the dirt road.

“She’s praying,” I whispered, but followed him anyway.

We stepped through the cemetery’s arched gate and stopped about ten feet away at a mausoleum.

In the sparse brown grass, Katarina knelt next to a grave with her head bowed. She glanced over her shoulder at us.

Her eyes smiled, and she softly waved at us. We stayed at the mausoleum until Katarina was finished.

“Hi,” she whispered as she approached. “I was just visiting my mother. She died when I was a little girl.”

“M-my mother died, too,” Wirenut murmured.

She looked up at him, surprise obvious in her eyes. I decided to stay silent. It seemed as if they were having a private conversation.
I felt like I should leave and give them time alone, but I couldn’t make myself walk away.

I missed David.

“What’d you do?” Katarina changed the subject, pointing to the red, scabby marks on Wirenut’s right hand.

“I got mad and hit the side of a building.”

“Hmmm…well, remind me never to make you mad.”

“I’ve never gotten that way before. Really. I hope it doesn’t scare you.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’m not scared.” She slid her straw purse onto her shoulder and looked at me. “Café?”

I returned her contagious smile. No wonder Wirenut was so drawn to her. “That’s where we were heading.”

We exited the cemetery and strolled past the Museum of History.

Katarina rubbed her chin. “I like this on you, Stan. This…this…Oh, how do you say it in English?”

“Goatee.”

“Goatee, right. It’s sexy.”

He glanced away, and I pressed my lips together to hold my smile. Sometimes I wished I could be that direct.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Did I embarrass you?”

He laughed. “Yeah, actually, you did.”

Katarina laughed, too. “I’m sorry.” She repositioned her purse on her shoulder. “I’m going to the marketplace later, if you want to join me. It’s along the cliffs. I’ll be there around lunchtime.”

Wirenut nodded. “Sounds good.”

In content companionship we continued strolling down the hillside road to the outskirts of the city. We rounded the corner onto a street.

“
Qeqis!
” Paper! shouted a kid, waving today’s edition.

“Just a second.” Katarina dug a coin from her purse and gave it to the boy. “My father wanted me to buy one.” She opened the folded newspaper, perused it.

I peered over her shoulder at the Rissalan headlines. “What does it say?”

“Yellow ribbon says the Ghost strikes again.”

Wirenut and I exchanged a quick look. He hadn’t left a yellow ribbon last night. The burglar must have.

Crap.

[6]

Thirty minutes later,
after a quick breakfast at the café, we strode into Wirenut’s and TL’s hotel room.

Wirenut tossed the newspaper onto the bed. “Have you seen the headlines?”

TL didn’t turn from staring out the small window. “Yes.”

“We didn’t leave a yellow ribbon.”

“Of course you didn’t.” TL lifted a hotel mug to his mouth and took a sip. From the square of paper dangling off the edge, I assumed it contained hot tea. “I’ve decided we’re going to catch the burglar.”

Wirenut perked up. “Really?”

TL moved from the window. “My gut tells me he’s going to be at the Museum of History tonight. After the king’s crown, just like us. He’s involved with Octavias Zorba. Has to be. Catching the burglar, the Ghost impersonator, will lead us to Zorba.”

I sat down on the bed. “Did David get the meeting scheduled with Zorba?”

TL dunked his tea bag a couple of times. “No. Zorba is conveniently out of town on business. He won’t be back for weeks. I’ve got David working on where exactly this business is.”

“What about the burglar?” I crossed my legs. “Anything on him?”

“Just that he’s been impersonating the Ghost all over the place. He did a job in Australia a few weeks ago. Left a yellow ribbon and all.” TL shook his head. “Whoever he is, his identity has been hidden well.”

“Want me to get cranking on it?” I asked.

“No. Chapling’s got it under control. What about the crown?”

I nodded. “I’ve got all the information.”

“Good. We’ll put it all together later in a conference call.”

Wirenut folded his arms across his chest. “How are we going to catch the guy?”

“We’re going to get the king’s crown with the encrypted message. Then we’ll sit back and wait for the burglar to show.”

Wirenut plopped down beside me on the bed. “What do we do for the day? Sit around here?”

TL put his mug down on the windowsill. “I’ve got another meeting with a local agent. You two enjoy a little scenery. There’s nothing to do until tonight.”

“There’s a marketplace along the cliffs,” Wirenut suggested. “Mind if we go there?”

I held in a knowing smile. The marketplace where Katarina would be.

“That’s fine.” TL tucked his wallet down his back pocket. “Make sure you have your cell phones with you at all times.”

Wirenut and I left
the hotel and walked east through town toward the sea. About ten minutes later, we reached an outdoor market that stretched for almost a mile along one of the cliffs. According to the lady at the hotel, everybody made a stop at the marketplace for daily goods.

We wove through the crowded walkways, wandering the cobblestone paths, taking in all the interesting stalls. Clothes, handmade toys, fresh fruits and vegetables, purses, hats. I bought some figs, wishing I could find a stand that sold lollipops.

Soft music trickled somewhere in the distance. “Do you hear that?”

Wirenut strained to listen over the crowd. “Yeah.”

“Oooh,” a tourist behind me cooed in English. “That’s Gio. I saw him perform yesterday. He’s really good.” She pushed between me and Wirenut, pulling her friend with her. “Excuse us.”

“Gio.” Wirenut grumbled. “Probably some sexy musician. Why do girls always think musicians are hot? I need to learn an instrument. Something manly. Saxophone, drums, guitar. Whadaya think?”

True. Musicians
were
hot. “Saxophone.”

Through the crowd we followed the two girls as the music got louder and louder. In the center of the street a small group had gathered. On a stool in the middle sat the oldest man I’d ever seen. He held a small weird-looking guitar.

I glanced at Wirenut. “Sexy.”

He smiled sarcastically.

A dark-haired girl knelt beside the old man. I studied her a second, realizing, “That’s Katarina.”

Wirenut perked up.

The old man handed her tiny silver cymbals that she slipped onto her middle fingers and thumbs.

Neat. She was about to perform.

She kissed him on both cheeks, and his face brightened into a wrinkly grin.

Gio began strumming the odd guitar, using all his fingers to go up and down the strings. A mellow, hypnotic beat emerged. I watched him for a second or two, then switched my full attention to Katarina.

She stood with her eyes closed, head back, one hand extended above her head and the other down by her side. Her sandaled feet were tight against each other, and her knees bent slightly. She was beautiful.

Gio began singing in Rissalan. A sad song in a tenor’s voice.

Katarina’s hips slowly rotated. Gently, she tapped the cymbals together.
Taptap taptap.
With her eyes still closed, she brought the hand extended in the air down in front of her face, trailed it between her breasts, over her stomach, and across her hips.